


In the Caverns of Tomorrow with Our Flashlights & Our Love, We Must Plunge

by shinyhuman



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-05-26 10:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6235216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyhuman/pseuds/shinyhuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke's a freshman in college, and her roommate's friend is slowly stealing her heart.<br/>~<br/>The title's a lyric from At the Bottom of Everything by Bright Eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So There's this Woman

Seated in her new desk, Clarke froze. An eerie calm settled over the room as she stared at her freshly made bed and the pile of stuff her roommate dropped off and abandoned. What was her name? Octavia. Octavia had walked in, flashed a smile, and left immediately. “Promised my boyfriend,” was all she said. 

And now, her first day on campus, the person who was supposed to cling to her had left her to fend for herself. Alone. Great. She took a deep breath, choking on the musty air. Coughing, she realized one of the downfalls of living on one of the oldest dorms on campus. A second downfall was the color scheme - a mixture of grays and browns, concrete and brick. 

Downstairs, a door opened and swung shut. It echoed through the dorm like thunder. She silently cursed herself for leaving her door open. As she stood to close it, a piece of paper flew in from the hallway outside, accompanied by a halfhearted “Oh, _shit_.”

The owner of the voice stumbled into her dorm in pursuit of the document, snatching the paper up before noticing Clarke was there. She laughed uncomfortably. “How embarrassing.” The woman tied her dark hair into a ponytail before offering her hand. Clarke took it. “I’m Raven,” she said. “You’re suitemate. Which means we share a bathroom, I guess.” They both grimaced as they took a peek into their shared space. 

“The teal tile is really inviting.”

Clarke agreed, “So is the single toilet.”

“Ugh,” Raven shook her head. She turned back out to the hallway and motioned to someone. “Come here, nerd. Don’t be shy.”

Raven’s friend stepped forward into the room, eyebrows raised, arms crossed. Her hair was a mess of braids, all swept up into a ponytail. “This isn’t really your space to invite people into,” Raven’s friend scolded her quietly. She wore a muscle shirt that, Clarke thought, really highlighted the namesake of the style. The muscles of her arms were accentuated even further with a blend of intricate and simplistic tattoos running over them. Clarke tore her eyes away, a blush creeping to her cheeks. 

“Sure it is,” Raven replied coolly. “Suitemate, this is Lexa. She’s helping me move in.”

“Nice to meet you both,” it was embarrassing, how Clarke struggled to speak coherently, “I’m Clarke.”

“Clarke,” Raven tried out the name. “Weird, but good.”

“I work in an hour,” Lexa said to Raven. “I need your stuff out of my car.”

“Right,” Raven agreed.

Clarke asked, “Do you need help? I’m so bored.”

Lexa looked at Raven, and Raven sighed in relief. “That would be great. I injured my leg a year ago - these stairs are killing me.”

“The building’s too old to have an elevator,” Clarke explained. Reason number three.

Raven grimaced. “Living here is going to suck.”

“Raven,” Lexa said sternly.

“But down the stairs we go,” Raven mused, “And then up again. And then down. And up.”

They descended three flights of stairs and crossed the parking lot to Lexa’s car. It was a station wagon, plastered with bumper stickers and filled to the brim with boxes. 

“Like I always say,” Raven looked at Lexa as they approached her car, stifling laughter, “you are too cool to be driving this car.”

The smallest of smiles pull the corners of Lexa’s lips. “You’re lucky I do, or you wouldn’t have any belongings.”

They each grabbed as many boxes as they could carry and ascended the stairs. Clarke filed in behind Lexa, unaware of the danger in her decision. She almost tripped when she came eye to eye with her ass, and she immediately flicked her gaze upward. Staring at her back wasn’t any better, because, just above the neck of her shirt, the fringes of a tattoo twisted and curled from her back to her throat. Clarke swallowed.

“What’s the tattoo of?”

Lexa turned slightly, just enough to look at Clarke in her peripherals. “Which one?”

“Um, your back. It looks huge.”

“Nah,” Lexa laughed. It rang in the cement hallway like a bell, girlish and cute. “It’s a really simplistic solar system. I have eight brothers and sisters. There’s a planet for each of them. Conveniently for its meaning, Pluto is no longer a planet.”

“You disgust me,” Raven quipped. 

“Are you the oldest?” Clarke wanted her to keep talking. 

She paused before answering. Finally, she parted her lips, “Well - yes.”

“She grew up in a foster home,” Raven explained, “She’s one of those people that turns ‘normal’ family questions on their head. Eight brothers and sisters. Yeesh.” They reached the room, and Raven clapped a hand on Lexa’s shoulder. “And now she’s got her own apartment.”

“That must feel weird,” Clarke said.

Lexa sighed. “It’s nice. No screaming, no laughter, just me.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Clarke smiled, “I’m an only child.”

Raven was looking at her phone. “Lexa, when do you work?”

“Half an hour,” Lexa answered while returning Clarke’s smile.

They tore down the stairs in an effort to finish unloading Raven’s belongings in time. It took three more trips, and Lexa left for work with ten minutes to spare.  
Raven collapsed on her yet-unmade bed. “Oh my god,” she said dramatically, “I never thought my legs would hurt this much again. I was wrong.”

Clarke stood in the doorway, fidgeting.

“Still bored?” Raven teased. 

“Yes,” she said, “But knowing your room is this unkempt is making me anxious.”

“You are the dream roommate,” Raven said, closing her eyes. She rolled to her side, folded her hands beneath her head, and feigned snoring.

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get the wrong idea. You’re going to help me.”

“Be careful, or you’ll gain loser status in my book,” Raven warned. 

“That’s a dichotomy if I’ve ever heard one,” Clarke accused. “If I clean your room for you, I’m your dream roommate. If I ask for your help, I’m a loser.”

“Sike, my dream roommate _is_ a loser!” Raven winked. “Anyway, loser, tell me all the gorey details of your life.”

“My life is pretty gore-free.”

“No one is that boring. Any boyfriends? Girlfriends?” She wiggled her eyebrows, now sitting at the edge of her bed.

“Both.”

“Spicy, but so vague!”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “One of each. Nothing too serious. I was with my boyfriend for a year. What about you?”

Raven touched the necklace on her chest. “Been with Finn since freshman year of highschool. First and only.”

“Cute. Does he go to school here, too?”

“Nope. We decided going to separate schools was worth it. I wanted a good engineering program, and school’s not really his thing, so he didn’t get a high enough score to get in this University.”

Just as Clarke opened her mouth to interrogate her further, Raven’s cell phone rang. “Sorry,” she mouthed. “Lex. Thought you were at - oh yeah, yeah, that’s right - you da boss. Yeah, sure. I’ll ask.”

Raven hung up. Clarke asked, “How long have you known Lexa?”

Raven shrugged, “Three or four years, I think? Long enough.”

“Is she always so…” Clarke paused, searching for the right word.

Raven filled in the blank. “Serious? Moody? Bitchy? Yes. A million times yes. But she’s damn funny.” Then Raven smirked. “You’re asking a lot of questions about Lexa. Interested?”

Clarke blushed. “No. Not at all. If I was interested, I would ask if she were single -”

“She is.”

“And even so, she might not even be queer.”

Raven raised her eyebrows and laughed. “Clarke, fuck, you have to ask?” She touched her heart with her hand. “Lexa’s going to be heartbroken. No one under the age of 40 has questioned her sexuality for years.”

Clarke glared. “Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Raven cleared her throat, “The phone call was Lexa. Would you like to join us tonight? We will be celebrating the beginning of the academic year. There’s pizza involved,” she added, as though it made all the difference.

“It’s a date,” Clarke said with a smile.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

~

Clarke took a walk around campus to pass the time, familiarizing herself with the buildings and searching for her classrooms. After exercising her navigation skills, she walked down to the river rushing on the North side of the campus. Leaves filled the spaces between the path and the river. Curious, Clarke climbed over the fence and into the strip of trees. Step by step, the river revealed itself to her. She found a large boulder on its edge and sat on it, pulling out her sketchbook and sticks of charcoal. 

Her first sketch was of the river. She was good at landscapes, and she loved the challenge of their complexity. Surging so close, the river seemed to stretch on for miles, and the other side was faded with fog and distance. The fog perplexed her for an hour or so, but when she smudged and erased just right, she allowed herself a smile.

Her second sketch didn’t come as easily. Behind her eyes, the image of Lexa’s face was clear as day. She translated its shape to paper, drew the lines of her hair, filled out the shape of her intricate braids. Clarke paused in the middle of these things, at the features of her face. Instead of drawing them, she shaded the contours of her cheekbones and forehead, leaving the face blank. She would finish it later. Or perhaps not at all.

It was a chilly evening for late August, and she began to shiver in her shorts. The sun was beginning to fall, and she checked her phone. She had one message.

_Clarke - be there in one hour or be square!_

Clarke Griffin was not one to be square. Repacking her sketchbook, she made her way back to the dorm. When she arrived, she immediately crossed the bathroom connecting their suites.

She knocked on Raven’s door. “Hello?”

Raven opened the door, grinning. Lexa was laying in her bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Looks like you found something to do today!”

“It’s beautiful outside,” she said, “I went for a walk, sketched a little bit…”

“You draw?” Raven’s eyebrows rose. Lexa looked over. “Can I see?”

“I do. I mean, I’m kind of an art major.” She took out her sketchbook, carefully tearing out the most recent landscape drawing. She did not want to risk either of them seeing her sketch of Lexa - and unfinished, no less.

“Do you make these places up?” Raven asked, taking the drawing in her hands.

“Nope. It’s the river on the other side of campus.”

Lexa leaned over Raven’s shoulder. Her hair was unbraided, and the curls spilled over Raven’s chest. “I didn’t know there were places on campus that were so beautiful. Will you show me sometime?” She met Clarke’s eyes.

“Sure,” Clarke said softly. 

“Wow,” Raven said, looking between them, “Thanks for excluding me. Rude.”

Lexa rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Clarke wants you to come, too.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m over this. Let’s order pizza.” Raven rummages through her desk, “I have - here it is! - one of those coupons they give you when you wander around campus for a short amount of time to get food. A coupon for a $10 pizza with unlimited toppings.” She paused for effect. “If we don’t take advantage of this, we don’t deserve this coupon.”

Lexa tapped her chin. “What do you propose?”

“Every topping,” Raven said simply. “The most one pizza can hold.”

Lexa and Clarke looked at each other and nodded. “Excellent,” Raven clapped her hands together. “I should also tell you - you have no say for any of the toppings. It’s top secret.”

“That was a stretch,” Clarke said.

“No matter.” She shrugged Lexa off her shoulder and retreated into the corner, ordering the pizza off of her laptop. Lexa shifted closer to Clarke, combing her hair with her fingers and guiding it over her left shoulder. “Do you know how to braid?” She asked Clarke, just a few inches away. “I regret taking them out.” Her breath smelled like spearmint. It was wonderful.

“I do,” Clarke answered softly. She positioned herself, cross legged, behind Lexa, running her fingers through her thick, dark hair. 

Lexa sighed, leaning back slightly. “This feels good.”

“Yeah? Don’t get used to it,” Clarke teased. She separated a lock of hair and began to weave the strands together. Lexa pulled bands from her pocket and held them out. Clarke picked from her palm, butterflies buzzing in her stomach each time she finished a braid. Halfway through, Raven had finished ordering the pizza. 

“Aren’t we fast friends?” Raven laughed, looking up. Clarke put just a bit of distance between her and Lexa, still braiding. She worked more slowly as they talked, tugging Lexa’s hair just enough to scold her when she turned her head.

Raven’s phone buzzed. She picked it up, “Pizza,” she declared in a singsong voice. She lept up and ran down the stairs, wallet in hand.

Clarke finished the final braid. “Thank you.” Lexa knotted them together into a ponytail. “Raven is terrible at braiding.”

They shifted apart, and Clarke hugged her knees. “I’m probably not much better,” she admitted.

Lexa laughed, short and sweet, like a bark. “Why did you tell me you could, then? I think it looks good.”

“I thought, worst case, you’d get a good laugh.”

Lexa fingered a braid. “Thoughtful,” she smiled. 

Raven bursted through the door, pizza in hand. “Women,” she bowed, “I present to you...your pizza.” She opened the box to reveal a pizza heaping with toppings.  
Clarke grabbed a piece and exclaimed, “How am I supposed to hold this?” Onions and pieces of chicken fell between her fingers and onto her lap. She made a bowl with her hands, eating cautiously.

“Barbecue sauce? Really?”

“Lexa, you’ll eat it and you’ll enjoy it. Every topping was meticulously chosen for your tasting pleasure.”

Lexa tested a second bite, wincing as she fit the piping hot bite in her mouth. She chewed and swallowed, and plunged in for a third.

“This is actually amazing,” Clarke admitted. She looked at Raven, awestruck.

“I am the queen. Lexa?”

Lexa flashed a thumbs up, her mouth full of food. 

“I am so good.” Raven grabbed a piece for herself and basked in her glory. When the pizza was gone, Lexa stood up to leave. 

“I have work in the morning,” she said. Then, gazing at Clarke, she added, “I hope I see more of you.”

Clarke couldn’t help but catch the double meaning.


	2. And They Started Just Falling 30,000 Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa sucks at bowling.

Clarke arrived home from her first day of classes and collapsed on her bed, burying her face in the pillow. She sank into the blankets, resting her bones. The bathroom door opened on her side, but Clark couldn’t bring herself to greet her roommate - she was too exhausted.

“Clarke!” Octavia greeted her mid-yawn. “You okay?”

“Classes all morning,” Clarke groaned, the pillow muffling her voice. “From eight in the morning to two.”

Octavia made a gagging sound. “Class that early? You must hate yourself. This girl signed up for exclusively afternoon classes. For example, my first and last class of the day begins at 3:30. I call it, ‘self-care.’”

Clarke turned to glare at her. Octavia was grinning like she had done something incredible. Her mouth still blocked by the pillow, she asked, “So...did you have fun with the boyfriend yesterday?”

“Oh, yes,” Octavia sighed, “We - ”

“Forget I asked,” Clarke said, covering her ears in mock disgust. “I don’t want to know.”

Octavia laughed. “I’m not going to disclose my sex life to a virtual stranger, my friend,” she scolded, smirking. “Lincoln hosted a party - sorry I didn’t invite you - and it was awesome. We’ve only been together for a couple of months, but all of his friends love me.”

“Bet you didn’t even drink.”

“I’ll have you know I performed some particularly _savage_ body shots,” she informed Clarke. She turned back to her bed, and Clarke realized she was finally unpacking.

“In that case, I’m thankful you didn’t invite me.”

Octavia tapped her temple with a finger, “Noted. But, I implore you to reconsider hanging out with me, just one time. I want to invite you to a bowling extravaganza Lincoln and I are hosting at the campus bowling alley this evening. Raven is coming.”

“Sounds fun,” Clarke said, closing her eyes. She flipped her pillow over to the cool side, and had to stop herself from moaning out loud. “I’m going to nap now.”

“Sweet dreams.”

~

Clarke woke up to wide, brown eyes uncomfortably close to her face. She yelped and fell out of the bed, taking half of the bedding with her as she grasped for leverage.

Raven laughed, leaning on the bed to balance herself. A cool voice behind her said, “I told you it was a bad idea.”

Clarke stood, gathering her blankets and dignity. Half joking, Clarke demanded, “Get the _fuck_ out of my room.”

Raven held one hand in the air in defeat as she rested the other on her chest, wheezing. “Whoa. Okay, just having a little fun. Oh my god, I didn’t think you’d freak.” She looked over at Lexa, mouthed something, while Lexa shook her head in disapproval.

Clarke smiled, catching Lexa’s eye. The woman leaned against the doorframe, her attention turning to the posters and paintings taped neatly on the wall. 

“Did you draw these?” She asked, lingering on a particularly colorful depiction of jupiter. Clarke noticed she was wearing a charcoal button-up, its collar and top three buttons loose.

“No,” she answered firmly. “I’m not much of a painter.”

“Then what are you good for?” Raven chimed in, making her way to the door. Lexa flicked the back of her head. “Ouch!”

“The _sass_ ,” Clarke grinned. “Should we get going?”

They walked together to the campus bowling alley. Clarke slipped on a hoodie to combat the chilly night air. Raven, who hadn’t thought so far ahead, kept a quick pace, while Lexa fell in step beside Clarke.

“I bet you’re really good at bowling,” Clarke said.

Lexa looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “How did you know?”

Clarke shrugged. “Just something about you. The way you carry yourself.”

“I’ve been told before about my natural bowling posture,” Lexa admitted, her lips teasing a smile.

Clarke allowed a giggle to burst through her mouth. “I’m terrible at bowling. I use both of my hands.” 

Another group of students passed by them, talking loudly. They both looked down, avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk. “I’ve never bowled before,” Lexa said seriously. “Except once at a birthday party, when I was ten.”

Raven, far ahead of them at this point, had made it to the building. “How did you do?”

“I got a perfect score, naturally.” A grin stretched across her face. “I was the youngest person to ever make the Lucky Strike Lanes wall of fame.

“Impressive,” Clarke humored her. “Are you good at everything?”

As they reached the door, she held it open for Clarke. Lexa ran her fingers through her hair, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She met Clarke’s gaze, positively smouldering. There was no way Lexa missed Clarke blush. Red. All of the blood rushed to her cheeks, culminating in one moment of pure embarrassment.

Lexa answered, “Yes.”

Clarke swallowed, looking away. “I...um…”

She was saved from further embarrassment when Raven found them and waved over. They descended a flight of stairs to the bottom floor, where Octavia and Lincoln were waiting, already wearing the appropriate shoes and gathering balls.

“Are you ready to lose?” Octavia challenged.

Raven flipped her hair. “Bitch, I’m gonna kick your ass so hard.”

“I didn’t come here to win,” Clarke declared. “I will take my place as the grandma bowler.”

“Plot twist,” Raven announced, “Lexa’s really good at bowling and destroys us all.” Clarke and Lexa made eye contact and sniggered. 

“That,” Lincoln said, throwing his ball down the lane, knocking all ten pins down, “will actually be me.”

“Shit,” Raven lamented. “Okay, Lexa, you get to go second. Teach him a lesson in style.”

Brushing her hair back, Lexa took one of the heavier balls from the shelf and fit her fingers in the holes. Winking at Clarke, she turned and lined up her shot. Swinging her arm, she released the ball, which rolled, quickly, into the gutter. 

Raven held her face in her hands. “Oh my god. You’ve failed me as a friend. As a fellow human being.”

Lexa shrugged. “That’s the closest I’ve ever come to hitting a pin.” Her second shot was somehow worse, furiously thrown into the gutter another lane over. Her jaw tightened, and Clarke thought she heard the sound of gritting teeth.

“Lexa,” Clarke said excitedly, taking her turn. “I have the perfect technique for you - it never fails. Watch this.” Clarke squatted at the front of the lane, the ball in both hands. She gently let it roll off her fingertips and onto the lane where it rolled at a snail’s pace toward the pins. It took them down one by one, each victory marked by a distinct clang of plastic on wood. “Yes!” Clarke cheered for herself, “Seven!”

“I can’t, in good conscience, bowl that way,” Lexa said, horrified. She was sitting down, her legs crossed. “I would rather bowl into the gutter, like a respectable adult.”

“Clarke,” Octavia took Clarke’s hand as she made her way to a seat. “If I ever see you bowl like that again, I will find a new roommate.”

“You can’t - ” Clarke began.

“I will slit your throat,” she cut her off, “And enjoy the free tuition granted to me for suffering the death of a roommate.”

Clarke’s second shot, though significantly less childlike, gained her an additional point.

“See?” Raven said, “You still hit a pin.”

Clarke ignored her and took the seat next to Lexa. “Bowling isn’t fun,” she grumbled as Octavia knocked eight pins down.

“I thought your bowling technique was cute,” she muttered back. “Thanks for showing me.”

Octavia threw her arms in the air as she scored a spare. On her way back to Lincoln, she said to Clarke, “We were kidding, friend. Please bowl however you want.”

For the remainder of the evening, Clarke bowled with both of her hands. Lexa even tried it twice, grinning like an idiot when she knocked a pin down. 

“You’ve improved,” Clarke told her as they changed their shoes. “Tonight wasn’t a waste of time.”

“Not at all.” Lexa took her and Clarke’s shoes to the counter.

Raven wrapped an arm around Lexa’s neck. “We should go bowling more often,” she teased. “Whenever you beat me in anything - just to keep you off your high horse.”

“What will you do when I become good at bowling?” Lexa asked, venomous. “Because, if you’re serious about this, we’ll be bowling pretty often.”

“God, you’re a bitch.” Raven squeezed Lexa’s arm affectionately. “You always dish it right back.”

“Are you coming back with us?” Clarke asked Lexa.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” Raven said immediately. “The night is young, and I happen to know _someone_ doesn’t work tomorrow.” 

Octavia kissed Lincoln’s cheek and skipped over. “Not to invite myself over, but I’m available tonight.”

“Wo-ow,” Raven raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “Ditching the boyfriend? Are you two okay?”

“Shut up. He works early and I, by law, never go to sleep before midnight.”

“Sure. But only because you’re cute,” Raven said. She and Octavia walked ahead together, running to the dorm when they caught the chilly breeze. Lexa and Clarke hung back. Lexa took a deep breath. “I love Raven, but she wears me out.”

“I’m starting to get the same feeling about Octavia,” Clarke agreed. “It’s a good thing they have each other. You couldn’t pay me to talk with an extrovert all day.”

“Absolutely.” Lexa turned to Clarke, fists shoved in her pockets. “Would you want to take the long way back? I want to enjoy this weather.”

Clarke’s skin was already crawling with gooseflesh from the cold. She said, “Sure. Which way would you like to take?”

“Do you want to show me where you did that drawing?” Lexa suggested.

“It’s in the opposite direction.”

“I don’t mind.”

With a smile, they spun around, enjoying a comfortable silence as the path twisted between buildings. There met a few other groups along the path, but were alone when it finally dove behind the last hall, a flight of stairs descending level with the river. Finally, the rushing of the water filled the air and Clarke took a deep breath. Summer was ending, but she could still taste its sweetness.

“Are we close?”

“Getting impatient?” Clarke smiled. “Yes, we’re close.”

Clarke stepped off the path and into the strip of wood. She pulled a branch back and held it out for Lexa to catch. Just as the boulder was in sight, Lexa yelped and crashed into Clarke, knocking them both into the ground. “Sorry,” Lexa whispered. Her hands were on either side of Clarke’s head, hair in Clarke’s face. She scrambled to stand. “I tripped. There was a log, or rock or something.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Clarke stood more slowly, thankful that the darkness hid the red creeping on her cheeks. “Your hair smelled nice, anyway.” She made her way to the boulder, without looking at Lexa. It was big enough for the both of them, and Lexa took a seat beside her.

The river was just as beautiful under the moonlight. The color was stripped from the scene,and the trees, waves and sky all blended together. Clarke wished she’d brought her sketchbook. She wanted to draw it so badly. 

She turned to Lexa, who was staring across the water. “It looks like your drawing,” Lexa said. “Thank you for showing me this.”

“I’ve never been here at night,” Clarke admitted. Still looking at her, Lexa’s smile faded. “Did I say something wrong?”

Lexa put a finger on her lips, as though keeping words from spilling out from between them. “No.” They sat in silence, listening to the river. Finally, Lexa turned to her, “You think my hair smells nice?”

“Is that what’s been bothering you?”

“No,” Lexa said again, laughing uncomfortably. “I just...want to kiss you.”

“I - ” before Clarke finished, twigs snapped and a flashlight lit up their faces. Clarke blinked, momentarily blinded.

“Okay, kids,” a deep voice said. “You aren’t supposed to be off the path. Let’s get going.”

They looked at each other and filed out of the woods. The campus safety patrol waved them onward and they silently walked back to the dorm. When they got back to the parking lot, Lexa scratched her head. “I, um, I’m going to head out. I’m really tired.”

“Okay,” Clarke said quietly. She wanted to close the distance, but she couldn’t.


	3. we must rip out all the epliogues from the books we've read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is already awful at baking, but being thirsty just makes it harder.

Still curled in bed, Clarke bit her tongue and pressed send. 

_Free to hang tonight?_

She closed her eyes, anxiety running high. Was it weird to send someone you met four days ago a text at eight in the morning? There was certainly no turning back now. She picked up her phone when it vibrated, lighting up the crisp whiteness of her sheets. She sighed, prepared for the worst.

_You’re up early._

Clarke facepalmed herself, resisting the urge to curse, if only for Octavia’s sake. Clarke was pretty sure she went to sleep only a few hours ago, stumbling into bed, cheeks flushed with vodka. Shit. Shit, shit, _shit._ Clarke took another deep breath, willing herself to play it cool.

_This is me sleeping in. Class doesn’t start till 9._

Clarke turned toward the window, peeking through the slit in the curtain. The sun was just high enough to cast its light through the trees, making branch-shaped shadows. She made a mental note of the shape and the texture. Her phone buzzed.

_I’ve been up since 5._

Clarke made a face.

_Gross. Why?_

She pushed the blankets down past her feet and leaped off the bed, reaching over to take a banana from her desk. She was chewing her first bite when the phone buzzed again. It flashed “Media: Picture” and her heart shuddered in her chest. Her thumb hesitated for a fraction of a second.

It opened to Lexa in an apron, a cup of coffee in her hand and an espresso machine behind her. She was staring into the camera, lips downturned, eyes heavy and tired.

“My god, she’s cute,” Clarke whispered to herself.

“Thanks,” Octavia mumbled across the room. “But I have a boyfriend.”

“Go back to sleep,” Clarke snapped.

Clarke decided to respond in kind, and posed with her breakfast. After sending the picture, she finished the banana, tossed the peel, and brushed her teeth. She heard the phone buzz in the bedroom and ran to look at the message. Her foot hit a leg of her desk as she ran in, and she fell into her bed with a thud and a curse.

“You must be talking to someone special,” Octavia teased her.

“Why are you awake?” Clarke asked, slightly annoyed.

“Normally I would be fast asleep, but someone is being loud.”

“Yeah, okay, sorry,” she said quickly. She opened the text.

_To answer your first question, I am not. Does Saturday work?_

“You texting Lexa?” Octavia stifled a yawn. “Don’t give me that look. I know thirst when I see it.”

“I’ve known her for less than a week,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Not long enough to ‘thirst.’”

Octavia grinned, “I knew Lincoln for eight seconds when I started thirsting. It’s definitely possible.”

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Good. Then I can finally sleep.”

In the privacy of the bathroom, Clarke texted Lexa back. 

_Saturday sounds great!!_

She wondered if the exclamation points were too much. Maybe a smile would have been better. Was it too long? “Sure” would have been just fine. Or would Lexa have thought that too short, and thought she was angry? She set her phone on the floor and backed away. That was enough of that.

Clarke jumped in the shower, ignoring the urge to see if she had another text. When she was finished and had a towel wrapped around herself, there was a knock from the other side of the suite. “I’m done,” Clarke said.

The door creaked open and Raven slipped in, eyes barely open and wearing a nightgown. “Clarke!” She slapped her hands over her eyes, “Put some fucking clothes on.”

“You’re dramatic,” Clarke laughed, “Don’t worry, I’m leaving.”

“Wait, wait - are you going to Lexa’s on Saturday?”

Clarke frowned. Trying not to sound disappointed, she said, “Yep!” And left, closing the door behind her. Embarrassed that she assumed they would be alone, she stood in the slim hallway, clutching her towel tightly. Of course they wouldn’t - they met four days ago. But the twinge of disappointment was overwhelming.

She looked at her phone. It had one new message.

_Hey. I invited Raven - hope that’s ok._

_It’s fine._

Somehow, Clarke was perfectly alright with how that one sounded: bitter, a little betrayed. Or maybe Lexa didn't read into them so much.

_Dinner’s on me - whatever you want._

It made her smile, even through the twinge of guilt.

_You don’t have to do that._

Clarke dressed and packed her bag for class. Before she left, she received one last message.

_I know._

~

Saturday could not come soon enough. Thursday and Friday were arduous, mostly because every class decided to give their first quizzes of the semester, and Clarke was busy thinking about everything else. She and Lexa exchanged numerous texts and, she would never tell anyone this, she now had _three_ photos of Lexa in her work apron. 

When Saturday arrived, she woke bright and early. Her phone had a message from Lexa, sent forty-five minutes ago.

_Sleeping in?_

_Nope._

She began her routine, cutting up a grapefruit and fitting the pieces into her mouth as she waited for a response. She didn’t have to wait long.

_I have a free cup waiting for you, if you’d like to honor me with your presence this morning._

Clarke froze. She hated coffee, but the last thing she wanted to say was no. 

_Hope you mean tea._

Clarke pictured Lexa laughing, mouth closed, eyes crinkled, a slight chuckle. Perhaps a shake of her head. Almost immediately, another message appeared.

_Better come before it gets bitter._

Clarke smiled. She slurped the rest of her grapefruit, threw on her clothes (with a critical look in the mirror) and took a brisk morning walk a mile away from campus. 

When she arrived to the coffee shop, Lexa was behind the kiosk, focused on her work. When Clarke walked up to the counter, she looked up, and the crease between her eyebrows smoothed over and she smiled. She turned to her coworker, “I’m going on break.”

Lexa picked two mugs from the counter and handed one to Clarke. “It’s tea,” she said as she offered the cup.

“I wasn’t sure how to break it to you that I don’t like coffee,” Clarke admitted.

Lexa shrugged, “You could have said you didn’t want to come.”

“That would have been a lie.”

Lexa tested a sip of coffee. She licked her lips, emerald eyes meeting Clarke’s, and said, “Raven isn’t coming over until three. I get off early, if you don’t have any plans for the next few hours.”

Clarke, mid-sip, nearly choked on her drink. Coughing, she answered, “Nope. I’m free.” 

“Cool,” she stood, smoothing her apron. “My shift ends in an hour.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” Clarke said, pulling her sketchbook out of her bag. She carefully flipped through the pages until she found a blank one. When Lexa was behind the counter, she turned to Lexa’s unfinished portrait and began, delicately, to add the features of her face. 

They fit smoothly. She had memorized her hooded eyes by now, the crease between her brows, the slow curve of her nose. Her lips were more of a puzzle, but Clarke settled on the subtle seriousness of one corner, slightly downturned. 

“What are you drawing?” Lexa was standing across from her, holding a fresh cup of tea. 

“Oh,” Clarke pulled the sketchbook to her chest, “Nothing good. Nothing worth showing anyone. I was thinking about taking a look at the books anyway…” She trailed off, looking at the bookshelf opposite the kiosk. 

Lexa’s eyes lit up. “Do you read?”

Clarke was slightly offended. “Of course I read.”

“No,” she chuckled, “I mean, do you frequent books? Read as a hobby?”

“Not really.”

“That’s fine. May I make a recommendation?” When Clarke nodded, Lexa ran to the shelf, her finger tracing the spines of the novels. She crouched to read the titles on the bottom shelf, her fingers pulling the books apart. Finally, she seemed to find what she was looking for, and plucked a small, white book from the bottom row. She offered it to Clarke.

Clarke took it and turned it over. She read the title out loud. “ _Ariel_.”

“It’s Sylvia Plath,” Lexa informed her. “Poetry. It’s beautiful.”

Clarke paged through it sheepishly. “I haven’t read poetry since tenth grade.”

“And you hated every second of it.” Her eyes were brighter than the sun. “Plath isn’t hard to read. Reading her aloud helps. Here,” she took the book back and read one of the poems aloud. There was a rhythm in her voice, like she was singing. 

Clarke had never heard poetry like music before. “That is beautiful,” she agreed when Lexa finished, and she meant it.

“I have to get back to work,” she said softly. “Thanks for humoring me.”

“I meant it,” Clarke assured her. She plucked the book from Lexa’s hands and opened to the first poem just to prove it.

“You looked like you were zoning out,” she teased.

“I was enraptured by your voice.” It was not a lie.

“Is that what you told your high school teachers?”

“Every single one.”

“And I’m sure that made them feel fuzzy inside.” God, that smirk.

“I made you feel fuzzy inside?” Clarke tried to keep her tone playful.

Lexa winked as she joined her coworkers behind the kiosk for the remainder of her shift. Clarke turned her attention to the book. She thumbed through until she saw one short and sweet, less daunting than the three page long poem Lexa read aloud. Following Lexa’s advice, she read it under her breath. Her voice didn’t have rhythm or poise like Lexa’s, but it did make it easier and more pleasurable to read. When she finished one poem, she moved on to the next. She even tried a couple longer ones, just to roll the words over her tongue.

Clarke was on her fifth poem when Lexa look over her shoulder, apron removed, a light jacket on. “Tulips,” she read the title out loud. “That’s one of my favorites.”

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Clarke said, exasperated. 

“That’s part of the fun.” Over her shoulder, she pointed to a line. “So, based on this stanza, we know that the narrator is in a hospital. The whole poem is what she sees, laying in bed.” She pointed to another passage. “And next to her, there are tulips, bright red in all the white, that keep grabbing her attention.”

“She doesn’t like them,” Clarke offered.

“They remind her of life,” Lexa said, “when she is ready to die.”

Clarke frowned. “I think I liked it more before I knew what it meant.”

“You’re funny.” As punishment, Lexa took the book from her and put it back on the shelf. “You ready to go?”

Clarke nodded. Lexa took keys from her pocket and turned to Clarke, almost as an afterthought, and asked, “Do you drive stick?”

Clarke immediately went to the gutter. “That’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

Lexa raised her eyebrows. “ _Stick shift_ ,” she clarified.

“No,” Clarke said, a smile still playing on her lips. “I don’t even have a car, actually.”

Lexa unlocked her car and they slipped inside. She gripped the steering wheel tightly; Clarke wondered if she was nervous. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” Her voice shook only a little - it was hard to tell over the guttural whine of the ignition.

“In middle school, I was a boy scout.” Clarke always used that as her fun fact. “I am extremely good at camping. I joined because I love being outdoors - girl scouts don’t get to make fires.” Clarke relaxed in her car seat. “What about you?”

Lexa’s eyes were focused straight ahead. “I was on the men’s hockey team in high school - we didn’t have a women’s team.” She explained, “And I was ruthless. I broke my leg twice.”

“That’s all?” Clarke feigned disappointment.

“I also sprained my ankle on a regular basis,” she offered.

“My turn,” Clarke declared. “Tell me something embarrassing.”

“Right to the dirty stuff. You are cutthroat.” She shook her head. “Well, the first time I broke my leg, I wasn’t paying attention to the game. The girl I had a crush on was in the stands.”

“You were showing off,” Clarke accused.

“I was trying to,” she bit her lips, reflecting. “I was spinning or something, tripped over three guys, and crashed. There was a little blood. She visited me in the hospital.”

“Your story is weak. If you want to talk embarrassing, the first time I drank beer was in my senior year of highschool, at my crush’s house. We were kissing, and I was trying so hard to prove I could drink this disgusting shit she handed to me. And when I took the last sip, I puked. All over her bed, all over her. It was only the second time we ever hung out.”

Lexa was laughing. “Noted. Do not give Clarke beer.”

Clarke gave her a funny look. Lexa seemed to realize what she implied, and her smile faltered. Clarke added, “Give me anything else. Hard liquor, cider, wine, all fine.”

“Are you telling me what you had in mind for this evening, Ms. Griffin?”

“I’m not telling you anything.” The pulled into the parking lot.

“Well, Clarke,” Lexa began as they closed the car doors, “I happen to have a box of cake mix that needs to be baked. Would you care to join me?”

“I made cookies once,” Clarke informed her. They were standing outside her apartment. “They were as hard as rocks, and smelled like firewood.”

“I’m sure they tasted great.” Lexa pushed the door open. “Welcome to my home.”

Lexa’s apartment was cozier than Clarke expected, especially for someone so usually serious. A total of four bookshelves lined the wall to the right, each stuffed with books, a forest green couch sandwiched in the middle. 

“Do I get a tour?” Clarke asked.

Lexa was in a goofy mood. “Of course.” She almost seemed giddy. She guided Clarke to the center of the living room and cleared her throat. “This is my living room. To your right is my collection of books, and you will also notice a couch, which I acquired for free, just outside this building.”

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘living room,’ or ‘library?’”

Lexa ignored her. “If you follow me, to my left, you’ll see a kitchen. This is where we will bake our cake.” She pointed to the door at the end of the hall, “The bathroom. Use it at your leisure.”

Clarke nodded, making ooh’s and aah’s when appropriate.

“And lastly, my bedroom.” Lexa opened the door, revealing small room made smaller with three bookshelves and a king-size bed. “My favorite novels are in here.”

“Moving must suck for you. Books are heavy,” Clarke winced. The thought of carrying even one box of books sounded arduous. 

“It’s worth it.” They stood in awkward silence. Clarke, looking anywhere but at Lexa, pretended to be fascinated by the contents of the bookshelves. They were fascinating, each spine a different size and color and shape. It looked like a sculpture.

She licked her lips, “Which are your favorites?”

“All of them,” Lexa answered honestly. But she went to grab one, crawling on the bed, lying flat on the stomach, and searching the bottom shelf. When she saw what she was looking for, she stretched, easing it off the shelf with two fingers. Clarke could not look away, following the gentle curves of her outstretched figure.

With three books sitting on the end of the bed, Lexa looked over at her. “Come here.” Clarke obeyed, lying down and propping her head with an elbow. Lexa’s bed was covered with dozens of pillows and blankets.

Lexa started to talk excitedly about whatever book was on the top of the pile, but Clarke didn’t hear a word she said. She was committing the person in front of her to memory. He long, dark hair was wild from the bustle of work, and her eyes, green flecked with brown, just as fierce. Clarke could not look at her lips without wanting to feel their softness. She followed the convex lines of her cheekbones to the curve of her throat and back up again. What had Octavia called it? Yeah, she was definitely thirsting.

“Clarke?” Lexa was looking at her, the third book in her hands. “You look tired. Do you need to take a nap? I could take you home.”

“No. Yes. I’m tired,” Clarke shook the jumbled words out of her head. “Just, ah, sitting down in nice. Octavia had me up late last night.”

Lexa shrugged. “I can put on a movie, if you want. Cake can wait.”

“A movie sounds good,” Clarke said quickly. 

Lexa sat up and crawled out of the bed. She offered her hand to Clarke. “Anything in particular you’d like to watch?” Clarke took it, lifting herself to her feet. 

“Whatever you want.”

Lexa’s hand slipped out of Clarke’s and into her pockets. “Okay.” 

In the living room, Clarke situated herself on the couch, hugging a pillow as she watched Lexa. It took her only a couple seconds to choose and set up the movie, subsequently taking a seat right next to Clarke.

As the movie started, the screen slipped in and out of focus, Clarke’s eyes heavy and drooping. She did not realize how tired she was until she was surrounded by warmth and allowed to relax. It wasn’t long before she dozed off completely.

~  
When Clarke woke, the movie was still playing. Her head rested on Lexa’s shoulder. Lexa smelled like mavender and pine needles. Heat fluttered in her chest when she felt the soft and slow strokes of Lexa’s fingers twirling in her hair.

“You smell like pine trees,” Clarke murmured, voice muffled by Lexa’s shirt. _She’s warm._

Lexa jumped when she spoke The arm formerly tangled in Clarke’s hair now ran nervously through her own. “Good morning,” she said. “Looks like someone fell asleep.”

“Someone put on a movie that made me fall asleep,” Clarke argued. 

“ _The Godfather_ is a classic,” Lexa said, outraged.

Clarke yawned. “Sound’s like something my mom would say. It’s her favorite movie.”

“Your mom has good taste.”

“I never want to hear those words again.” Clarke grimaced. She stood up to stretch her legs. “And I don’t want to talk about my mom. What time is it?”

Lexa pulled out her phone. “2:30. Raven should be here soon.”

Clarke silently cursed herself for sleeping away her time with Lexa. “Well, let’s get this cake over with.”

“We don’t have to make it if you don’t want to.”

“I hate to be the reason a perfectly good box of batter is ruined. Have I told you about my cookies?”

“They have entered the realm of myth,” Lexa said, walking to the kitchen. “But you forget that I am the baking master.”

Clarke teased her by holding an invisible joint on front of her lips and pretending to suck. 

Lexa winked. “That, too.”

“Raven’s puns are rubbing off on me,” Clarke explained.

Lexa groaned. “She’s so bad at it. Not even laughable.”

“You’ve laughed at mine,” Clarke pointed out.

“Well…” Lexa trailed off. She dug in her refrigerator and balanced milk, butter, eggs, and a tub of frosting in her arms. “The last thing we need,” she eyed the frosting, “is shitty frosting ruining our cake.”

“You make it homemade?”

“Baking is serious business, Clarke.” Lexa tipped everything onto the counter. Then she spun and grabbed the cake mix out of the cupboard, setting it lightly in front of Clarke. “Can I trust you with the task of mixing the batter?” She measured out the milk.

“Sure. Where do you keep your mixing bowls?” Clarke asked. 

Lexa turned around, pointing to the cupboard above Clarke’s head. “Do you want to me get it for you?” Clarke nodded, and was immediately aware of her closeness - the hand resting on her hip, her torso pressing against Clarke’s back, the smell of perfume, faint, on her neck, and her eyes focused as she reached into the cupboard above them. 

Lexa placed the bowl in front of them, her hand still at Clarke’s waist. Lexa’s cheek brushed Clarke’s hair. Her heart raced. She stared at the bowl in front of her, every ounce of self control focused on opening the box of cake mix and definitely, definitely not turning her head to kiss Lexa’s mouth. Her hands were shaking, and she struggled to pull the bag apart. “Let me help.” Lexa’s breath tickled her ear. She reached around Clarke’s waist to tear the top of the bag and tip the powder into the bowl. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach. 

When she was done, Clarke poured the milk into the bowl. Sh began to stir, acutely aware of Lexa’s arms wrapped around her waist. “How am I doing?” The redness of Clarke’s face was a permanent feature, or so Lexa surely thought.

“Your technique is exquisite.”

Clarke’s technique was atrocious. The diabolical combination of nerves and a true lack of natural talent resulted in the counter getting a heavy dusting of excess batter and droplets of sloshing milk. “This is how my cookies started,” Clarke warned her.

“Stir on the edges, not the middle,” Lexa suggested. Her lips were pressed to the back of Clarke’s head. Clarke felt every breath.

Following her suggestion, Clarke stirred until the batter gathered into a more batter-like substance. “You’re a fucking magician,” Clarke said, truly impressed.

Lexa laughed. “You did that.”

“But - ” A knock on the door interrupted Clarke, and her heart sank.

“That’ll be Raven,” Lexa said. She left to open the door, and Clarke became significantly less warm.

 _Shit_. She thought, _I’m thirsting hard._


	4. The Only Thing She Really Ever Heard Her Say Was to Order Her Bloody Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the classic "truth or dare" chapter. Ready yourselves, I guess?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a month. Finals suck. But, hey, it's a wee bit longer than usual, yeah?

“Hey, nerd,” Raven greeted Lexa. She had a bag slung over her shoulder, it’s contents clinking as she walked. “Just a heads up, I invited Octavia and Lincoln. I know you’re not really a ‘more the merrier’ kind of person, but I am.”

“I’m sure any protest of mine would be met with cold apathy.”

“Yep. I also have the nagging suspicion you kidnapped my roommate.” Raven looked into the kitchen, waving when she saw Clarke. Clarke waved back. 

Raven turned back to Lexa, an eyebrow raised. “She came to me,” Lexa said, affronted.

“Yeah, like a kid comes to a creepy guy in a white van, passing out candy.” Raven smiled at her own analogy. 

“Funny.” Lexa brushed it off. “What’s in the bag?” 

Raven dropped it on the couch, wincing at the sound of glass clinking against glass. Curious, Clarke joined them, looking over the shoulders to see its contents. “Booze,” Raven informed them, “And clothes. No need to thank me for literally being the best, but you’re welcome, Clarke, for thinking of you.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said, “Now I don’t have to drink water tonight.”

“You wouldn’t have had to,” Lexa said softly. “I have things other than beer. Vodka, I think.”

Raven snorted. “Pretty sure she was making a joke, Lex.”

Lexa frowned at Raven. “I know. And I have extra clothes, for good measure.”

Clarke tried not to think about how the scent of Lexa’s perfume probably permeated all of her clothes, and how comfortable it would be to wear one of her t-shirts, like pine trees and lavender and only slightly too large. She failed. “You’re so tall. Your clothes would be so long on me.”

Raven looked between them. “This is disgusting to watch. I’m so glad I won’t be the third wheel tonight - inviting Octavia was past me doing future me a solid.”

A tinge of pink spread across Lexa’s cheeks. In a restrained voice, she asked, “When are they coming?”

“Soon.”

“I suppose we could finish the cake while we wait,” Lexa grinned, looking at Raven expectantly.

Raven’s eyes widened. “Please tell me you made frosting.” Lexa nodded, and Raven turned to Clarke. She gripped Clarke’s shoulders, shaking her excitedly. “I found Jesus when I tried that frosting for the first time. ‘Raven,’ he said to me, ‘God is real. And He loves you.’”

Raven’s grip tightened as she waited for Clarke’s response. Clarke bit back laughter. “It must be really intense.” 

Raven nodded. “It is.” She looked over toward the kitchen longingly. When she spotted the tub of frosting, she dashed to the kitchen, but Lexa was faster. Lexa swiped the frosting away, shielding it behind her back. “No. You have to wait until the cake is done.”

Raven put her hands on her hips, pouting. “Rude! You’re a bad host.”

“You can leave,” Lexa gestured to the door, “Or you can help with the cake.”

Raven sighed, helping Lexa measure the rest of the ingredients. While the cake was in the oven, Raven filled Lexa in on the events of the evening prior. “My friend, you have got to see this girl drunk.” She pointed to Clarke, who buried her face in her hands. “She holds her liquor surprisingly well, though.”

“I’m sensing a story.” Clarke could feel Lexa’s eyes burning a hole through her hands.

“I never thought you’d ask. First of all, I’ve never seen anybody down five shots of fireball, consecutively, and do two more in less than an hour later. Octavia and I utterly embarrassed ourselves - Clarke held my hair when I puked my guts out. Octavia washed the fireball down with a milling gallons of water. Yeesh.” Raven grimaced. “Clarke, when did you wake up this morning?”

“Nine, and I had five shots, not seven.”

“Nine? Are you real?” Raven shook her head. “You need to see this. Anyway - ”

There was a knock on the door, and Raven jumped to open it. “Thank god you’re here,” she hissed, loud enough for Clarke and Lexa to hear, “the sexual tension is taking a nasty toll on my blood pressure.”

Lexa and Clarke did not look at each other, Clarke sat, petrified. When the timer for the cake went off, Lexa wordlessly stood to retrieve it. 

“Lincoln couldn’t come,” Octavia informed them. “He said something about ‘responsibility’ and ‘work’ and then I stopped paying attention. Clarke!” Her face lit up. “How’re ya feeling?”

“Good,” Clarke answered. “I could ask the same of you.”

“I drank like, ten gallons of water before bed. I feel wonderful. Ready to start drinking again, right away.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I heard a rumor someone brought an entire duffel bag of treasure.”

Lexa, setting the cake out to cool, grimaced. “Drinking before dinner sounds horrible. Why don’t we go somewhere to eat first?” She addressed everyone but looked at Clarke. “Any ideas?”

“I’m feeling greek,” Raven answered. Octavia made a noise like an animal, signaling agreement. 

Clarke nodded. “Sure.”

~  
Standing in line for gyros, Clarke and Lexa exchanged glances as Raven and Octavia argued. They were grinning, lashing insult after petty insult while other customers watched the show. 

“You’re dead to me if you don’t order falafel,” Raven threatened. 

“And you’re a dumbass if you think falafel even competes with lamb!”

“How about you take a shot tonight for every morsel of meat that slithers down your - ”

“Hey guys,” Clarke interrupted quietly, “Why don’t you tone it down a bit?”

“Ha!” Raven exclaimed. “Clarke nagged before Lexa. You get to buy my gyro,” she jabbed a finger at Octavia.

“Lamb or falafel?”

“Chicken, please.”

Clarke and Lexa rolled their eyes. After Raven and Octavia finished ordering, Clarke walked up to the counter. “Falafel gyro, please.”

Lexa cleared her throat. “Same.”

At the register, Clarke had her wallet ready. Lexa stopped her with a raised hand. “I’ve got it.”

“Lexa - ”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said firmly. “Nothing. This is a thank you for a wonderful afternoon.”

“I don’t even know what she’s saying,” Raven said from her seat, “but it’s making me want to puke.”

“Thank you,” Clarke answered. “I’m sure I’ll find a way to thank you for the afternoon, too.” Out of the corner of Clarke’s eye, she saw Octavia feign gagging, a wicked smile on her lips.

Lexa took a deep breath. “Ignore them.”

“Tonight is going to be miserable.”

“Being drunk will help.”

Clarke laughed. “I can’t picture drunk Lexa. All I see is you with a beer in your hand, sober.”

Lexa frowned, her confusion genuine. “Why?”

“You’re so serious. And poised.” They took their seats.

Raven joined in, “Impenetrable. Brooding. Sexy.” Lexa cast her a glare, a real glare, and Raven immediately quieted. To fill the silence, she took an impressively large bite of her gyro. Raven frowned when half of it spilled onto her plate. It was hard to miss the disgust permeating Lexa’s face.

Octavia addressed Lexa through a mouthful of food. “So Lexa. I want to know more about you. None of those words seemed to capture your _essence_.”

Lexa’s jaw twitched. “What would you like to know?” She spoke stiffly, picking at her food with her fork. 

When Raven opened her mouth to speak, Lexa shot her another look. Raven remained silent, and Clarke made a mental note to never piss Lexa off. 

“What word would you use to describe yourself?” Octavia asked, oblivious to their exchange.

“You can’t sum a person up with one word.”

Octavia swallowed her bite, readying her fork for another. “An honorable answer.”

“She’s full of those nuggets of wisdom,” Raven assured her carefully, maintaining solid eye contact with Lexa. “But, Octavia, you’d have better luck interrogating a more open book.” Raven nodded her head toward Clarke.

“Hmm. What do I want to know about Clarke?” Octavia tapped her chin. “I already know she snores, that she wakes up during the ungodly hours of the wee morning, that she has a crush - ”

“All,” Clarke cut her off quickly, “gross exaggerations.”

“I want to know,” Octavia paused dramatically, “about your family.”

Clarke grimaced. “My mom is a doctor - ”

“Hot,” Raven interjected.

“And my dad is dead.” The words hung on her tongue, blunt and bitter. “That’s about all there is to know.”

“Octavia,” Raven turned to her, “You’re an asshole.”

A warm hand patted her arm. “I’m sorry,” Lexa said seriously, “Death takes many before their time. How long ago?”

Clarke hesitated. “A little more than a year.”

“It’s been two since I lost someone I loved.” Lexa said, her grip on Clarke’s arm tightened. “Costia and I were in the same foster home since we were twelve. We were lovers until she was seventeen, our foster mom caught us, and she ran away. That was five years ago. I found out last year that she died on the street.”

Their hands clasped tightly together. Clarke ran her thumb over Lexa’s. “Thanks for telling me,” she said softly. 

“Likewise.”

“Well,” Octavia looked between them. “Who’s ready to drink?”

~

Raven watched Lexa spread the frosting over the cake, a hint of saliva glinting at the corner of her mouth. Lexa held her gaze as she spread the frosting at a glacial pace, covering the cake twice over. She cut off the first slice and handed it to Clarke. “For your hard work.”

Clarke took it, aware of Raven’s burning disbelief. “Lexa - ” Raven began to protest.

“Clarke has exhibited patience,” Lexa said, “and I’d like her to try it before you inhale the whole thing.”

“I’ll inhale it with you,” Octavia soothed Raven, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

Clarke took a bite. She understood why Raven was obsessed with Lexa’s baking - it was good. The cake, she decided, was really just a vehicle for the frosting. She said to Lexa, “This is excellent. But I will say, the cake isn’t necessary.” 

Raven nodded her agreement. “I sometimes even feel that the cake takes away from the frosting.”

Octavia was almost finished with a piece of her own. “Not sure what you guys are talking about. This cake is great!”

“Chew with your mouth closed,” Raven scolded. Soon, however, she was distracted by a plate of cake. As Raven shoveled the cake in her mouth, Lexa and Clarke migrated to the living room, taking seats on opposite ends of the couch. Octavia searched Lexa’s refrigerator for liquor, and, upon finding a suitable drink, she and Raven joined them. 

Holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a two-liter of coke in the other, Octavia offered them to Clarke. “Drink up, Griffin.”

“I have glasses, you know,” Lexa eyed the bottle, frowning.

Octavia collected a shot glass for each of them and filled them up. As she distributed them, Raven said, “I have a proposal. Having not played in my childhood, I propose a game of truth...or dare.”

Lexa winced. Octavia cheered, and Clarke said, “Let me get drunk, first.”

“That’s fair,” Raven said, handing her a glass. “Two shots to get in the game?”

“Give me three.”

“Hold your horses, Griffin. We need you coherent. Actually, you know what, sure. Maybe you’ll be on par with the rest of us.” She smiled, “Okay, kru, rules: for dares, no sexual or violent acts, please. And if you don’t want to do the truth or dare assigned, your penance is one shot.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to this,” Lexa eyed her glass apprehensively.

Raven rolled her eyes. “Then why don’t you go first?”

After a moment of contemplation, Lexa took her shot, and then held the glass out for a second. Only after downing them both did she purse her lips. “Raven. Aren’t you going to ask me truth or dare?”

“Nope. I already know you’re going to choose truth, like a scrub.” Raven grinned when Lexa shrugged. “I want to know if you’re a top or bottom.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Octavia met Lexa’s gaze and winked. “Top. Lexa, to be honest, I’d let you top me all day if you asked.”

Lexa scratched her head, face reddening. “I’m not sure what you mean. I’ve really only ever been with one person…”

“Did you spend the majority of the time on top of her, or beneath her? That’s all I really want to know.”

“Costia? On top, I guess.” Lexa’s face twisted into confusion. “But isn’t it different with every person?”

“Lexa,” Octavia quieted her. “You did a wonderful job answering the question. I encourage you to have another drink before you say anything else. Do a shot with me?”

Lexa took the glass thrusted into her hands, drinking it despite the confusion still written over her face. Octavia silently applauded her, and waited for Lexa to choose her victim. “Octavia.” She paused, thinking. “Truth or dare?”

“I’m offended that you have to ask. Dare.”

Clarke could tell Lexa was buzzed because her face no longer filtered her emotions. Instead of regarding Octavia with cool calm, Lexa’s eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to come up with a suitable dare. Octavia stifled a giggle but Clarke leaned in, lips ghosting Lexa’s ear, “Dare her to take another shot - ”

“Too easy, Griffin!”

“ - of vodka. And she has to use milk as a chaser.”

“That tickles, Clarke,” Lexa breathed, voice small. She repeated the suggestion to Octavia, who groaned. 

“Is it cheating if Clarke helps her?” Octavia whined to Raven as she collected the milk and vodka. 

“Sure is, but you still have to do it.” Raven brandished the bottle of whiskey at Clarke. “Griffin - your penance.” 

Clarke obliged, aware of Lexa’s eye flickering from her throat to her face to her chest as she swallowed the shot, her lips slightly parted. 

Raven noticed, too. “Did you know,” she addressed Octavia matter-of-factly, “If you get Lexa even mildly drunk, she starts eye-fucking attractive women?”

“That can’t be true,” Octavia shook her head, “because she’s not eye-fucking me.”

“Take your shot,” Clarke demanded. She turned to flash Lexa a smile, but Lexa was turned away, hugging her knees. Clarke reached out to run the back of her neck, gently fingering the soft, dark hairs too short to weave into braids. “How are you feeling?” 

Octavia made a show of taking the shot, holding the milk disdainfully in her hands, her entire body quivering from the taste. “Do I have to chase it with milk?” She choked.

“Yes,” Clarke responded cruelly.

Octavia took one gulp out of the carton, a single tear sliding down her cheek. She coughed, and for a moment Clarke thought she was going to puke. Raven hand a hand on Octavia’s shoulder, her face a blend of concern and delight.

“Lexa,” Clarke repeated, “You okay?”

Lexa inhaled slowly. “Please do not stop doing that.” Clarke smiled at the slight slur of her words. 

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “What, rubbing your neck? I can’t stop, ever?”

“No,” Lexa’s breathing was heavier. She fell apart under Clarke’s fingers, eyes closed, limbs limp, body leaning forward. Clarke’s fingers trailed downward, Lexa beginning to whine in protest until she realized Clarke was scratching her back. “Fuck,” Clarke thought she heard her curse. 

Raven cleared her throat, “Okay, Clarke, if you’re done turning my friend on in the middle of a game, Octavia has an important question for you.”

“Truth,” Octavia met her eyes with a shit-eating grin, “or dare?”

“Dare,” Clarke responded cooly. 

“Whatever you want to do to Lexa right now, do it to me.” Octavia smiled smugly. 

“But, Octavia, we can’t dare anyone to do anything sexual!” Raven gasped in mock surprise.

“Yeah, that’s okay. I’ll save us all the rules nightmare and sit out this one.” Clarke poured herself an additional shot. Octavia cheered and Raven groaned as she took it. She winked at Lexa, who turned scarlet. 

“Just because I won this round doesn’t mean you’re free, my friend.” Octavia wagged her finger at Clarke. “I double dare you - this means you have to take two shots to get out of it - to serenade me as though I were the love of your life.”

“The first one was a set-up,” Clarke accused bitterly. She dropped to one knee and held Octavia’s hand, meeting her eyes. “Octavia, this is a song about how you don’t mean anything to me.” Clarke proceeded to serenade her to the melody of the ABC’s, voice purposefully out of tune. 

“Clarke,” Octavia wiped a tear from her cheek after her last note. “That was touching. Dare I say, beautiful.” She patted Clarke’s hand before she returned to her seat. Lexa was laughing into a pillow, now feeling the full effects of the alcohol. 

“You definitely had a tasteful use of the word ‘cunt.’” Raven agreed. Then her eyes narrowed, and she said seriously, “Clarke, my choice is dare.”

“Call Finn,” Clarke challenged immediately. “Tell him you’re a lesbian.”

Raven stared at Clarke, contemplating. Octavia urged her, “Do it. This is so much better than milk and vodka.”

“You’re one shot and thirty seconds of shame away from not doing it at all,” Clarke reminded her. 

“No,” Raven said, a smile spreading across her face as she reached for her phone. “This is a true test of undying love. He’ll probably see through it right away.” She dialed the number, and they sat in silence. “Hey,” Raven said when he picked up. “How are you? I’m good. Great actually, yeah, a little drunk.” She winked at Octavia when she said, “Finn, there’s something I need to tell you.” 

Raven took a deep, shaking breath. Clarke was actually impressed at how convincing she was. “I think I’m - no, I’m being serious, please listen to me - I think I’m a lesbian.” When the words fell off her lips, she waited. There was silence on the other end of the phone. “Hello?” She said cautiously. “Yes, the kind who kisses girls, I - oh that’s disrespectful.” Raven’s lips turned into a frown. “Who? No one, why does there have to be a someone? What are you - what an ass!” She exclaimed, holding the phone in front of her. “He hung up on me,” she explained, her face twisted in outrage. 

“I take it that’s not how you expected him to react?” Lexa said cautiously. Her knees bumped against Clarkes, and their legs grazed each other lightly. Clarke noted her proximity with raised eyebrows. Lexa was too focused on her friend to notice, leaning forward with protective concern. 

“Nope,” Raven said softly. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I thought...I thought he’d laugh, like ‘Oh, you’re joking, but you know I’d still care about you anyway.’ I’m too drunk to deal with this.” She shook her head, “I’ll save it for morning.”

“Do you want to stop?” Lexa asked.

“You wish.” Raven scoffed. “Please, let Finn ruin my night? No thanks. But let’s keep the Finn dares to a minimum.”

Lexa relaxed in her seat. Sje realized how close she was to Clarke, jumping when their shoulders touched. Through the buzz of alcohol, Clarke smiled, “I don’t mind if you touch me, you know.”

Lexa reddened, eyes wide. “Oh, I didn’t - I didn’t mean - ”

“Truth or dare?” Clarke blurted, capturing Lexa’s gaze. Their faces were close together, and, though her vision was swimming slightly, it was easy to see the flecks of gold in green, each crease in her forehead, and the slow movement of Lexa’s lips when she said, “Truth.”

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“You stole my question.” Clarke noticed Lexa dimpled when she smiled. “Hmm. Well, my full name is Alexandria.”

“That’s the lamest fun fact I’ve ever heard,” Octavia groaned. 

Clarke ignored her. “It’s a beautiful name.”

“It was my grandmother’s,” Lexa said. “Or, so I’m told.”

“Clarke,” Raven hissed, “Ask her what piercings she has.”

Clarke eyed Lexa expectantly. Lexa raised her eyebrows, getting braver. “Hmm, well, I have these three on each ear…”

Clarke and Raven both rolled their eyes. “I just don’t see the point,” Raven said, “Of getting them if you don’t show anyone.”

“And my nipples,” she winked at Clarke. “I suppose you’re going to ask to see them?” Her face was flushed from embarrassment or alcohol. Probably the latter, considering the mischievous grin spreading across her lips. 

“Are you asking me if I want to see your boobs?” Clarke almost laughed. Lexa was practically squirming.

“Depends. Do you?”

Clarke matched her smile, leaning closer. “Ask me on a date, first.”

Lexa huffed, forehead wrinkling. “Fine. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Depends,” Clarke so enjoyed frustrating Lexa. “Where will you take me? It has to be good, you know.”

“Fuck,” Lexa rubbed her eyes. “Anywhere. You like walks. Let’s go hiking.”

“Hiking?” Clarke tapped her chin in mock consideration. Sweaty Lexa, battling the creatures and plants of mother nature herself? Yes, _please_. “That’s acceptable.”

“Okay, I asked you. Can I take my shirt off?”

“Yeah...still here, Lex.” Raven waved her hand awkwardly. “Remind me how much you’ve had to drink? This is a little embarrassing.”

Clarke wanted nothing more than to see Lexa shirtless, but Raven had a point. She was definitely more drunk than Clarke. “Lex, I would love to see you shirtless, but maybe when we’re a little less drunk?”

“What, like on our hike?” Annoyance flashed on Lexa’s face. She didn’t bother hiding it. “Clarke, can we go tomorrow? On our date, I mean.”

“Do you work?”

“Nope. It’s Sunday.”

“Than we can go tomorrow.”

“Good,” Lexa said crisply, as though they had just completed a business negotiation. “Now, Clarke, I have one final request.” Lexa turned in the chair to sit back against the arm, looking at Clarke brom between her legs. “Do you want to cuddle?”

Clarke bt the inside of her cheek, looking Lexa over with gently eyes. Her dark hair spiralled outward, over the arm of the couch, down her shoulders. Hanging loosely, her t-shirt bunched up around her hips, and one foot was dangerously close to Clarke’s leg. 

“Mhmm,” Clarke hoped the sound that came out of her was more of the “yes” than a “no.”

“Yep, bye, this is our cue.” Raven and Octavia rushed to gather the whiskey and glasses. “We’re taking the bedroom. See ya.” 

Clarke stared after them until Lexa said her name, making grabby hands. Scratching her head, Clarke said, “Just - on top of you?” Her voice caught in her throat. 

“Yes.”

Clarke straddled her leg, awkwardly lowering herself over Lexa. Lexa held her waist, easing Clarke’s face to the crook of her neck. 

If Clarke thought Lexa smelled good from a distance, she was wrong. Lexa was heavenly. The smell of pine and lavender was faint, but permeated her skin. Clarke inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent. Holy shit.

“You okay?” Lexa asked, her words slightly slurring.

“You smell good,” Clarke nearly growled. She placed a string of kisses from her ear to the collarbone to prove a point. Lexa’s heart beat wildly, and Clarke’s ego bloomed. 

“Kiss me,” Lexa breathed. Her voice was so soft Clarke couldn’t be sure she heard it correctly. Her fingers gripped Clarke’s back, her lips at her ear. “Kiss me,” she repeated, voice low with need. “Clarke.”

Clarke closed her eyes, pressing their lips gently together, her hand on Lexa’s cheek. All of her senses were captivated by the sensation of their lips moving together. The alcohol made Lexa rough, and she bit Clarke’s lips and tongue just hard enough to draw tiny gasps. Lexa’s hands tangled in Clarke’s hair, pulling them closer together. The apartment was quiet, save for the sound of their kissing and muffled laughter from the bedroom. 

Clarke did not have a sense of how much time had passed - it could have been hours or days - when Lexa pulled away, lips swollen from kissing. Clarke’s were nearly numb, tingling as she caught her breath.

Lexa held Clarke in her arms, tracing her lips with her thumb. Clarke returned the gesture, Lexa’s pouty lips kissing her finger. Clarke closed her eyes, shivering as she imagined those lips soothing the ache between her legs.   
“What are you thinking about?”

You, eating me out. Clarke almost said it. She laughed instead. “You,” she managed, “The kiss - it...it was good. It was - ” She took a deep breath, collecting herself. “My lips are tingling.” She didn’t realize how drunk she was until she transcribed her thoughts into words.

Lexa watched her struggle with awe, kindness warming her smile, crinkling her eyes. She licked her tips, “Mine, too.”

“I want to kiss you again.”

Lexa purred, “Wait.” Holding Clarke’s waist, they shifted, and she guided Clarke beneath her. Lexa was on top, straddling Clarke’s legs. She took her face in both hands and pressed their foreheads together. “Is this okay?”

To answer her, Clarke placed a hand behind her neck and pulled her into a kiss. Lexa was ravenous. She took Clarke’s bottom lip between her own and nibbled, her thumbs drawing small circles over Clarke’s cheeks. Clarke put a hand on Lexa’s thigh and - 

“Holy shit. Sorry, sorry!” Octavia shielded her eyes. Lexa pulled away, still balanced over Clarke, their faces flushed and breaths heavy. “Ignore me, I’m just getting some water.”

“Fucking holy water! Douse those bitches.” Raven called from the bedroom. 

Still in a haze, Lexa shook her head. “Sorry, Clarke,” she muttered. 

“No, I’m tired anyway.” Clarke threaded their fingers together. She was warm, her skin glowing in the dim light, eyes positively radiant. “Besides, we need rest for our hike tomorrow.”

Lexa nodded. “There’s room for all of us on the bed. Would you want to…” She bit her lip.

“Cuddle? Oh, yes.”In the bedroom, they situated themselves. Lexa curled on her side and Clarke slid behind her. She pressed her butt into Clarke’s hips and Clarke threw an arm over her waist, gripping the fabric of her shirt. 

“I swear to god,” Raven muttered, “If I wake up to ya’ll fucking in the middle of the night, I will kill both of you.”

Clarke chuckled, kissing the back of Lexa’s neck. Lexa was already asleep, her body rising and falling with her breath.Entirely overwhelmed by the scent of pine and lavender, Clarke was wide awake. She lulled herself to sleep for an hour by matching Lexa’s breaths and playing their kisses in her head, over and over. It was enough to hold the image of Lexa’s face in her mind and fall asleep thinking of shining emerald eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> No idea how many chapters. Could be five, ten, more. We'll see where it goes. T rating for now. May be M in future.  
> Check out my tumblr if you want: r0-ugh.tumblr.com


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